


so receive me with your kiss

by janie_tangerine



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Shotgunning, Teenagers, using superpowers for not exactly legal stuff ooops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28117941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: fourt times in which they smoked weed together without it leading to anything, and one time it did.
Relationships: Billy Batson/Freddy Freeman
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	so receive me with your kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aroceu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/gifts).



> New sandbox for me dear recipient, but I hope you enjoy it! The title is more or less reworked from Bruce Springsteen, nothing belongs to me, and happy Yuletide!

1.

Now: some part of Billy is _really_ , really happy that the wizard is most likely dead and _never_ coming back to life. Because if the wizard could see what he and Freddy are doing _right now —_ which he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t _dare_ even trying if they couldn’t, well, transform into peak form bonafide superheroes that certainly don’t look fucking fourteen — he’d probably… think back on his choices when it came to bestowing those powers on _him_ in the first place.

That… would be _very_ very damn likely.

Unless the old man was into _this_ kinda recreational activity — something tells Billy that he really, _really_ wasn’t, but then again, the wizard is _dead_ , so there is no way this is going to bite them in the ass… when it comes to their superhero selves being a fundamental part of this plan.

When it comes to the rest, well, he’d just wish Freddy would stop haggling with that kid everyone in school goes to for weed and just pay him however much he’s asking — it’s not like they haven’t poled together enough money to afford the stuff now, haven’t they?

“Come on,” he whispers, “just pay him and let’s get out of here.”

Freddy, from under his heavy black coat hiding his cape, rolls his eyes and finally hands out the money, _thankfully_ , finally, now that he has the joint they can leave and go back home and smoke in peace —

“Pleasure doing business with you, then,” he grins, and why would he grin when _they just bought weed_ , for —

He reaches out and grabs Freddy’s arm, dragging him away. “Can we _just_ leave already?” He hisses.

“And who’s going to look at us twice unless you keep on _fretting_?”

Which — is a damned fair fucking point, except that somehow _now_ doing illegal shit feels somehow _wrong_ in a way it never had felt when he had nothing to lose and he didn’t give a damn either way for impressing his foster families or whoever was housing him at the time. Maybe now he just _doesn’t want to get caught_ with weed on him in whichever form he is in, is that so unreasonable?

He breathes in. They have their costumes covered, they’re _not_ going to get found out, and if anyone does, well, they’re _superheroes_. People know who they are. The police certainly wouldn’t search them, _would they_?

Well, maybe if they didn’t have coats that seem out of some sleazy third-rate crime movie when they usually don’t wear them, but the moment they get back where they hid their backpacks and so on they should just — go back to their usual, go home, lock themselves in Freddy’s room and finally find out what the fuss is all about, because _that_ was why they set out to get the weed in the first place. Reasonable. _Reasonable, right_ —

“Billy, really, if you fret some more someone _is_ going to notice,” Freddy elbows him, and Billy hates how when he’s like _this_ he seems to have zero sense of, well, not self-preservation, _but_ , zero sense of the fact that _something_ could go wrong and that they’re not invincible, and he’s probably a hypocrite for thinking that because hadn’t _he_ behaved in the exact same way at first? He has no clue. He just _wants to be out of here_ and back home and without the sleazy trench coats and without risking to get caught with weed on him because now _that_ would be a damned problem wouldn’t it _just_ , he doesn’t want anyone in the family to get in trouble just because the two of them had to try and see how getting high felt —

“Let me tell you, hyperventilating doesn’t look good on you, when you're like _that_.”

“Eat dirt and let’s just go get our things,” he says, heading towards the corner where they left hidden their backpacks and Freddy’s crutch —

Except that _then_ a police car turns the corner.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Billy says, plenty aware that _he_ hasn’t turned the corner and Freddy _has_ , and he still is most likely looking as if he just committed a crime, for —

“ _Stop_ fretting,” Freddy says, and then he _puts the weed in the pocket of Billy’s damned coat before he takes a few steps back_ and says _shazam_ and goes back to normal, what the — “And just let me deal with it.”

Billy fucking hopes he does because now he has a pocket full of weed (fine, it’s just enough for a joint, but… it’s still _drugs_ ) and a police car inching closer and they know who he is and they know _superheroes doesn’t use sleazy coats_ , and then Freddy’s out of the alley with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Officers!” He waves before they can stop them themselves. “I see that our services are not needed here, are they?”

“Not unless your friend here wants to steal our work all the time,” the first cop mumbles, eyeing Billy up and down. “And what’s that, a new costume?”

“Eh,” Freddy says before he can say anything else, “you would never know, but superheroes can feel the chill too. And it’s cold this time of the year, isn’t it? Sure, he needs _less_ than us mere mortals do, but —”

“Yeah, right, got the gist. Jack, you heard that? Superheroes feel cold now.”

“And what would _you_ know, asshole? You’re not one. Just leave criminals in front of the precinct if you find any, will you?”

“But of course, officer. Have a good day at work!”

He waves with a _bit_ too much fucking energy. They turn the corner.

Billy exhales the deepest breath he has ever held in his entire life. “What the _hell_ , Freddy?”

“Worked, didn’t it? Also, fuck them cops, but since when have you disagreed? Also, if I were you I wouldn’t transform back. No one is going to stop _you_ , just in case.”

“I _hate you_ ,” Billy groans, but he can see the point, and he doesn’t go back to normal until they’re a block from home and the stash is safely put under all of his school books.

Then they run upstairs to their room and he sets on _locking_ the damned door — sure, for a miracle today everyone is out or doing afternoon school clubs, so they should have a couple of free hours, but with how many people come and go from this house? Yeah, better _not_.

So, he takes care of locking the door while Freddy opens the window, and then he _finally_ takes out the damned packet of weed from his pocket.

And again, it’s enough for one joint only, he thinks as he starts rolling it, so he doesn’t know why Freddy was haggling about it, but _still_.

“Here,” Freddy says, taking a lighter out from his drawer, Billy supposes he bought it before while transformed, “ _now_ we can give it a go.”

“Well,” Billy says as he sits on the bed, “I sure as hell hope it’s worth all the effort we put into getting it.”

“What,” Freddy says, lighting it up, “do you want to miss a milestone in life experiences?”

“Oh, now smoking weed is a _milestone_ in our life experiences? Or anyone’s?”

“Please, because you haven’t agreed to try it out _just because we could_ and to see what the fuss was about _.”_

“Just hope it’s better than the beer,” Billy sighs as Freddy takes the first drag from the joint.

Then he coughs.

 _Hard_.

“Holy —” He starts, coughing harder, “ _hell_ , maybe I should have tried slower, _oh_ —”

“Give it here,” Billy says, giving him a few pats on the back and moving the joint to his lips. He takes care to drag from it slowly and just a little before he passes it over to Freddy again as his coughing slows down.

“Oh,” he hums as he does, “doesn’t taste bad.”

“That’s all you have to say for it?”

“It’s still fucking more than _you_ do, you coughed it out,” Billy says, and Freddy mutters a _yeah yeah_ you _say so_ before taking a slower drag.

“Hm,” he nods after, “right. Maybe your method had a point. It smells nice, too.”

Billy nods, and then takes a smoke again. They trade it silently back and forth before Freddy grins a bit wider than before.

“Fuck, Billy, did you even see the other cop’s face?” He blurts, and Billy, who _had_ seen the face in question but hadn’t exactly _thought_ about it until then, remembers how he looked absolutely sure that they were going to arrest criminals for them or _something_ , and then bursts out laughing so hard his stomach _hurts_. It’s — it’s _different_ from anything he’s ever felt, the laughter bubbling up from his stomach to his throat, escaping his mouth without a filter, and it feels so — so _freeing_ , he can’t help reaching back for the joint and smoke again and laugh _harder_ —

“I did,” he wheezes, “I _did_ , how did we even manage to —”

“They’re fucking _cops_ , Billy, ‘course we managed. Doesn’t even take that much, does it?”

He’s laughing too now, a bit harder than before as well, and now Billy’s feeling like he’s not tense anymore at all and he lets himself fall down on Freddy’s bed before he grabs the joint and takes the next drag.

“Right on,” he agrees, “but next time _you_ put it in your damned pocket.”

“Oh, _fine_ ,” Freddy laughs again as he reaches back for the joint, “I have a better poker face than you anyway.”

Billy can’t help thinking _yes, yes you do_ , before they stop talking and go back to smoking the joint and the laughter goes back to giggling, and —

Yes.

It was damn worth it, but next time?

Next time it’s Freddy’s turn to actually have the stuff on him.

That’s for damn sure.

2.

“I _refuse_ ,” Billy proclaims as soon as they get home, “to do _anything_ at all until we’ve had ten showers. _You_ especially.”

“This is _your_ fault,” Freddy retorts as they walk in, and Billy _honestly_ hopes no one is around because if they smell them there are going to be questions, and damn, he _liked_ this shirt but he’s so going to burn it or directly trash it now, “because if you weren’t so adamant about, you know, not using our powers when we could have _flown_ all the way —”

“Oh, _sure_ , because the two of us in full Shazam get-up flying from _that_ kind of sleazy alley when there are _three_ cop cars about to make a raid _right nearby_ would have been a good idea? Seriously?”

“We could have been there for the same reasons as they were!”

“Oh, because you would have helped them arrest people whose only crime was like _buying weed same as we just have done_?”

“Of course _not_ , I’d have busted them out the moment I could and fuck the police, but that’s not the point —”

“Freddy, I _never_ want to hide in the damned trash again in my life, so _how about we take a shower_ and we smoke that joint later and _we never discuss it again_?”

“Fine, fine, fair point, let’s. And fair, I’d rather never do that again either. _Shit_. This is so gross.”

It _is_ , on that they’re definitely agreeing, and so Billy quickly stashes his backpack in their room (and he’s going to have to wash it with damned bleach after) and then rushes into the free bathroom — Freddy’s already in the one right in front of theirs, good thing this house has _damned multiple ones._ Sure, most of his stuff is into the one Freddy just occupied, but he can use Mary’s for once, he can’t wait for his turn at the shower right now. He proceeds to throw his clothes directly in the trash before moving into the shower, turning on the hot water and _get the damned smell of trash out of him_.

Fuck.

He can turn into the kind of superhero that everyone single naysayer at cons would complain about being OP, he’s defeated at least one supervillain (with help, sure, but _still_ ) and now here he is, having had to hide in the trash because he and Freddy decided to go buy more weed the day the damned police was going to arrest a bunch of people _right nearby_. His life is a joke. His life is a _fucking joke_ , he decides, and then grabs the shampoo and proceeds on washing his hair _thrice_.

He doesn’t get out of the shower until he can only smell Mary’s lavender soap on him, it was the only one in the cabin and beggars can’t be choosers, and if she complains he used up most of it when she comes back for the weekend — well, _she_ is the one who didn’t bring it to college with, so… her problem really. He walks out of it, grabs a towel, ties it around his waist after giving his shoulders and hair a scrub, and then he walks out of the bathroom — _just to almost fucking crash into Freddy who was just coming out of the other one_.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t —” He starts, and then realizes that Freddy also has nothing on except the towel, and — he shouldn’t be _staring_ , what the hell, except that he apparently just _now_ realized that in what, two years, almost three of sharing a room and _being superheroes together_ he actually never saw him without a shirt on, and now he _is_ seeing just _that_ and — listen, Billy’s _liked_ people in the ways he thought whichever girl caught his eye in class was cute or that those strippers were hot or that his sixth grade English teacher looked catching, but… in between looking for his mother, figuring his shit out, the superhero gig and everything he hasn’t, like, _sat down and thought about it_ or about kissing people or about why he found them catching or nice to look at —

Except that now he’s fucking _staring_ and thinking that Freddy really should wear more flattering clothing because that chest really is damned _nice_ , lean as it is, and the trail of dark hair disappearing into the towel also looks pretty damn fucking hot, and wait, is he thinking that his best friend’s chest is _hot_ , oh fuck fuck _fuck_ , what —

“Earth to Billy,” Freddy asks, stomping the crutch on the ground. “Will you let me get back into _our_ room or what?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. Sure thing,” Billy stammers, and then moves to the side while Freddy makes his way through the door.

Fucking hell.

He’s _hot_.

 _Since when does he think that Freddy’s hot_ , for —

Well.

Since _now_ , apparently, he realizes as he grabs some clothes and run back to the bathroom to change, and when he comes back and Freddy is already holding out the joint he can’t help noticing that the beard he’s starting to grow looks _nice_ on him, and that curly hair looks a very fucking nice dark chocolate brown color as the sunlight hits it coming in from the window, and wait, _fucking hell_ , oh no, oh _no_ , why is he staring at Freddy’s mouth now, why does he feel his blood run downwards as he grabs back the joint from him and takes a drag —

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

By the time the joint is smoked, Billy is _nowhere near relaxed_ and is wondering if drugs would be an excuse to try and see what would happened if he tried to fucking kiss him, which is _already not a goddamned good idea_ because he barely even knows what he’s just realized and if he really has feelings for, oh, his best friend and roommate and superhero-mate, maybe he shouldn’t, like, _act on impulse and stick his tongue in Freddy’s throat right now_ because it seems like an excellent idea, not counting that outside Freddy’s obvious mancrush on Superman he’s never, like, given any hint that he’s into men, _so_.

So, not only he had to end up in a literal trashcan, he also realized _this_ is happening and he hasn’t even enjoyed the damned weed because he’s too fucking itchy and worried and _hyperventilating_ to even think about relaxing.

Damn, damn, _damn_ , how didn’t he even get it before _now_?

He shakes his head and tries to not think about how awkward it will be to share a room from now on, on _his_ side at least.

When he smokes the last drag, it tastes so sour in his mouth he almost wants to retch.

3.

“Does anybody happen to know _why_ is all my lavender soap gone?” Mary asks as she walks into the living room, shaking her head — after the five hellish days of midterms she’s just had she _had_ been looking forward to a nice relaxing shower with her favorite brand and scent of soap and shampoo… and then it was _gone_. And she’s pretty sure that both soap and shampoo containers were half full, and her mother doesn’t use that bathroom and neither does Darla, who has her own favorite soaps and wouldn’t want hers anyway, and Billy and Freddy have their own and Pedro and Eugene do too, so… who even took the time to go and take _hers_?

“Oh,” Eugene says, “I think it was either Billy or Freddy using it up a while ago.”

“Billy,” Darla informs him, looking up from her homework. "He smelled like lavender for _days_.”

Mary’s eyes widen.

Then they widen _more_. “Sorry, Billy used my _lavender_ soap? Since when does he even like that? Does he even own _scented_ soap?”

“Not that I know of,” Eugene shrugs again as he stares at his laptop. She doesn’t want to know what he’s trying to hack. Better that she doesn’t. “But, his backpack smelled like trash for the whole week, so.”

“Like _trash_?” Mary asks as Pedro walks into the room and heads for the fridge, saying nothing. “Why would it? They’re _superheroes_ , why would they end up dealing with… garbage?”

Darla shrugs. “You ask _them_ , they were all pretty snappy after that.”

“Snappy? Those two?”

“You couldn’t bring the trash topic up without the both of them blushing and telling you it wasn’t your business,” Eugene shrugs. “It’s probably very embarrassing on _their_ side. And I don’t know if I want to know.”

“This seems just… out of character,” Mary shakes her head. “ _How_ would they even? What damned reason? And why would Billy use _my_ shower anyway when they have _their_ own bathroom?”

“Guess Freddy was using theirs the other and he couldn’t wait,” Darla says. “Why is it a _problem_?”

“It’s not, it’s just… weird?”

It’s not a _problem_. She can get new soap and shampoo. And it makes sense that if somehow those two landed themselves in a garbage wagon or a dumpster or… _whatever,_ then they’d wash until they drowned the smell out, but it’s not like they _have to outrun bullies_ or anything these days, so why the _hell_ would they even end up in such a situation?

Superheroes.

Ending up in the _garbage_.

Unless they were doing something illegal, but _what_ could they be doing that’s illegal, they’re fourteen, and anyway they know better than getting into trouble lest CPS comes knocking regardless of how young and stupid they might be, so — she raises her hands and flops on the sofa. She’s too tired for this. And she hasn’t even showered yet.

“I mean,” Eugene says, “they _have_ been weird with each other in general, with all the blushing across the table at dinner and so on, but —”

“Guys,” Pedro interrupts, “they’re hot for each other.”

Mary can _feel_ the moment everyone stops doing whatever it is they were and turns to stare at him.

“Sorry,” she says, “they’re _what_?”

“Please,” he says, “you should have seen them _staring_ the moment they walked out of the bathroom that day. They absolutely are. Cheers.”

Then he finishes drinking his juice and goes back upstairs.

The three of them look at each other as they hear Pedro walking back up the stairs, and Mary is pretty sure all three of them are making an excellent goldfish impression right this moment, considering that their mouths are _all_ gaping.

“You know what,” Eugene says, “he might be right but I don’t want to know _anything_ more about that.”

“I heard nothing,” Darla huffs before she goes back to her homework.

Mary tries to consider it and decides that what Pedro said absolutely _did_ make sense all things considered, but she’s absolutely _not_ going to think about _that_ , and she’ll — go out and buy new soap and shampoo instead. Right. Yes. Brand new containers. Maybe she’ll get Billy some, too, just to _make the damned point_.

And if it’s true, she’s teasing them about it _forever_ , but sure as hell she’s never going to ask them _why the hell they ended up in the trash in the first place_.

4.

It’s not that Lois was against the whole barbecue event.

Actually, full disclosure, Lois was all _for_ the barbecue. It was a nice idea — why not do it after the farm was all properly retrieved so Martha could have some fun after everything the poor woman went through lately, and invite some people over? Sure, the company is what it is, and one day Clark will have friends that are not superheroes in need of figuring out how brunch works, but honestly, after _everything_ that went down in the last year or so? Brunch on the farm with some nice meat, enough alcohol to get buzzed and so on sounded heavenly, and it’s not like anything has gone sour yet. Except for the fact that Clark is _honestly enjoying the antics happening in front of him,_ which is just… okay, maybe he needed a distraction from fucking everything, too, but _really_?

“Clark,” she asks as he keeps on sipping his cold lemonade and stares ahead at the two kids from Philly who definitely flew in as superheroes and now are back to being fifteen, looking still half in awe of the company they’re in (admittedly, Billy not as much as Freddy, but _still_ ) and oh, apparently blushing _every time they look at each other_ , “you aren’t telling me that you’re finding this amusing, are you?”

“I,” he says, “am enjoying my very well-earned vacation.”

“By staring at fifteen-year olds who haven’t figured out they’re into each other?”

“Hey,” Clark says, “it was obvious that they were from that time I paid a visit at their school, they looked like they needed a nice week-end outside of Philly outside of all that pollution, and they’re pining so _hard_ , and I had a long year, and it’s not like in high school I had time for… any of that. It’s cute. And a bit of a change from… well. The usual. Why not?”

Lois, who sees _nothing_ hilarious in looking at two fifteen year-olds desperately trying to not _stare_ openly at each other while they eat and drink their root beer, is nowhere near convinced about how this is a case of enjoying a show. She’s pretty sure that Flash kid is laughing his ass off somewhere around the backyard while he _brunches_. The fact that Clark think it’s both entertaining and adorable from the way he looks at them tinkering around the barbecue — well. It’s… _exceedingly_ Clark-like, okay, fine, it _is_. Still. They’re nice kids. They have obviously been through a lot. They should be worrying about their own business or maybe _talk to them_ and find out about what they do when they’re not, well, in the get-up they were in when they landed here. Actually, she still would like to know _how_ exactly they became superheroes, so maybe she should go be a decent host and talk to them since Clark won’t —

“Why,” Bruce says, suddenly appearing to her left, and _will the man fucking stop giving her heart attacks_ already, “are we all staring at the two teenagers?”

“Because,” Clark replies very calmly, still sipping his lemonade, “I am wondering if they will go back to Philadelphia still _pining_.”

“Are you _seriously_ wondering that,” Bruce replies, and Lois is about to thank him for at least being _one_ voice of reason here, and _then_ , “they obviously will go back pining, they’re obviously not going to fess up _now_ , but from what it looks like you’ll find out they stopped just staring and blushing at each other at the next League meeting, or maybe another couple or so, and you really are easy to entertain if this is your idea of it.”

“Well,” Martha says showing up from behind them, “I think the one with the blue shirt _really_ is a fan of yours, Mr. Wayne. Maybe you could go talk to him so my son stops getting distracted?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Suppose I could, but _honestly_.”

Off he goes. Clark pretends to pout but finishes his lemonade and then stands up to join them, and Lois —

Lois is going to go inside, drink some wine out of the sight of any possible underage person around, _then_ she’s going to go back outside and rescue those poor kids from — whatever they’re being subjected to, being it people finding them adorable, k-pop knowledge or excessive barrages of questions.

Sounds like a plan.

And she’s _not_ going to tell either Clark or Bruce that before they started actually cooking that meat, she caught them smoking a joint behind the backyard because they were obviously nervous as hell, and sure as _hell_ she won’t tell them they looked painfully close to actually kiss when she walked in on them and swore she’d keep her mouth shut — as if _she_ hasn’t indulged in that once in a while when she was in high school or college and as if it’s not obvious that Bruce is right.

Still, she’s going to keep her mouth shut. And to drink her wine before she even thinks about walking out of this kitchen.

5.

“I feel like you’re missing the point of this exercise,” Freddy says as he hands Billy back the joint, and Billy _really_ is trying to put some effort into _not staring at his mouth_ , except that he doesn’t know if it’s working all that well. Actually, he’s pretty sure it’s _not working at all_ considering how on edge he’s feeling, weed or no weed.

“What?” He snaps, taking another drag. Fuck, this stuff _used_ to make him chill _once_. Well, it chilled him the first time they smoked together, and then from the second onwards it just made him more itchy and it also made his skin feel all hot and bothered, though maybe that’s not the weed because _that_ ’s how it feels being around Freddy every other moment these days _including when they were at that barbecue,_ fuck, he can’t believe he spent it flushing all over the place in front of — Superman and _Batman_ and everyone else and that he _fucking almost kissed him in Superman’s backyard_ because that one joint had… _gone to his head_ , let’s put it like that, so — no.

“You should relax. You’re as tense as a damned live wire, won’t do any good next time we have to go catch bad guys.”

“We wouldn’t go around catching bad guys _while high_ , I should hope.”

“Maybe we’d sober up at once. Huh, maybe we should try that, why not —”

“We’re absolutely _not_ ,” Billy cuts him off, and hands him back the joint. He doesn’t know since when _he_ turned out having a shred of sense of responsibility out of the two of them, but he’s not even sure that he likes it and he certainly is _not_ going to try that. He’s already sure that he toed the line enough when they bought it the first time.

“Lighten up,” Freddy says, and smiles wide as he takes the drag and hands the joint back to him, and _fuck_ but he has such a nice smile and Billy wants to _kiss it so badly_ it hurts, and the fact that he hasn’t got this under control and that it’s been _months_ and he hasn’t done it yet is fucking killing him here, and maybe there are… ethical concerns in kissing your best friend who’s also your adoptive brother but honestly, he can’t care less right now. He’s _burning with it_ , and the more they trade that joint the more he feels like going into the shower and jerking off thinking about all the things they could do other than kissing won’t cut it this evening, and he’s never felt like this for a girl or anyone else, _but_ —

But he feels like this _now_.

And maybe —

Well.

They still have _half a joint_. Maybe he can try — oh, why the hell not? It’s not like he’s going to chill or relax like _this_ anyway, so.

It’s not like he wants to, like, _ruin things_ if Freddy’s not into him like that, and fuck knows if he is, he couldn’t even begin to guess it, but maybe there is a way he can, well, see if —

“Hey,” he says, not relinquishing the joint even if he’s just taken a smoke, “maybe we should, you know, switch it up.” That — _that_ sounded really damned corny, but he hopes both of them are high enough that it won’t matter.

“Oh, _how_? I’m all fucking ears,” Freddy replies, staring at him, mouth half-parted —

He takes a drag, but before Freddy can protest he stole his turn, he moves forward, their mouths inching closer to each other as he does and he holds his breath, and he sees Freddy’s eyes widen the moment he realizes _what_ he wants to do, and for a moment he thinks he’ll pull away and then he can just — pretend it was a prank and laugh it off and let Freddy finish the joint, but then Freddy’s lips part and _he closes the distance between them, fuck fuck fuck_ , and Billy’s barely managed to blow that smoke gently through his mouth and down Freddy’s throat before Freddy’s actually _kissing him back_ and oh oh oh wait, he _is_ —

He lets the joint fall on the bed, moves a hand behind Freddy’s head and smashes their mouths together _harder_ , and it’s a terrible kiss because their teeth end up clashing together and the weed is making everything _weird_ but he can’t care less _because they’re actually kissing_ —

He pulls back, feeling like he’s going to faint.

He looks up at Freddy the moment later, and he looks as — as _about to faint_ as Billy’s feeling, so there’s _that_ —

“You — you meant that,” Freddy blurts, and he doesn’t sound so _chill_ anymore, either.

“Freddy, I was about to do that in Superman’s damned backyard and I didn't just because his girlfriend showed up, _yes_ , I meant that, now —”

He never gets to finish that sentence because Freddy kisses him right in the middle of it and now it’s — it’s _slower_ , with Freddy’s hands moving up to his neck, and his tongue is slipping past his parted lips and Billy has to sigh and open up and kiss _back_ and this is so much better, even if they both taste like weed everywhere but that’s not _bad_ , and when Freddy moans a little into his mouth Billy can _feel_ it go down to his dick and _oh fuck they’re on his own bed_ and —

“Can I,” he blurts when they part, his hands moving towards Freddy’s waist.

“Fuck, _yes, yes,_ of course you can, of —”

Billy doesn’t let _him_ finish now and makes quick work of opening up those jeans and reaching down and wrapping his hand around the very, _very_ hard and leaking cock that was pressing against his leg just a moment before, and — he hasn’t really fooled around with anyone but he’s jerked himself off enough times to know how what to do, it can’t be that hard, _right_? And so he goes and starts stroking it up and down, up and down, his thumb circling around the slit in the head and going faster and faster as Freddy thrusts his hips forward, and as Freddy starts moaning and buckling up against him and saying _oh fuck yes more_ he keeps on doing that, moving so that he’s right pressed up against him and his fingers can feel Freddy getting harder and _harder_ as his cock leaks all over Billy’s hand and fuck it’s so _hot_ he could faint — fuck fuck _fuck_ jerking someone else off is so much fucking _better,_ they need to do it again and again _very fucking soon_ , possibly in the next ten minutes or so, and has he said already that the way Freddy keeps on moaning is going _right_ to his dick because it _is —_

And then he doesn’t really get to do it for much longer because Freddy moans _harder_ and comes on his hand fast and hard and _hot_ and warm and there’s come everywhere on his jeans and underwear and Billy’s and on the bedsheets, and they’re going to have to wash them but _he can’t fucking care less_ now.

“Fuck,” Freddy says, “was that why you kept on spending all that time in the shower lately?”

“I was thinking about _you_ , shut up,” he replies, feeling his cheeks blushing _hard_ and hoping he can blame it on the weed later, and then Freddy flushes _harder_ and they’re kissing again and Freddy’s hand is on _his_ dick instead and —

“Well,” he says, “as if _I_ haven’t spent time in the shower too, lately. Now you _owe_ me the real thing, damn it,” and Billy _moans_ out loud at that, oh _fuck_ turns out that _someone else_ touching your dick is wildly different from when you do it and he doesn’t even try to keep himself from moaning out loud when Freddy starts stroking him a bit tentatively at first and then _way_ bolder after, his fingers going up and down up and down up and down and then he moves his hand away for a moment, spits on it and does it _again_ and oh _fuck_ it feels so good he jerks his hips up ad once and Freddy’s _grinning_ as he gets him off and —

And then Billy’s coming hard against Freddy’s hand, and he’s spilling all over the already wet sheets and — and he will feel embarrassed about how little he lasted _later._

A fucking long time later.

For now, he’s going to close his eyes and moan and _moan_ and kiss Freddy again the moment he can reach for him and he’s going to let himself see stars behind his eyes that make the actual ones he saw while flying pale in comparison, and he’s going to _not worry about anything else at all_.

Yeah. Yeah, he can work with that, he thinks, and then he right damn _stops_ doing that and just worries about grabbing the back of Freddy’s head and kissing him silly instead, and Freddy moans into his mouth when he _does_ , and fuck fuck fuck he wants to do it _again_ —

“Damn,” Freddy says, “you _could_ have done that in Superman’s backyard.”

“Hell _no_ ,” Billy shakes his head, “you can _forget it_ , and I want to do it again right _now_ but I think we need your bed for that.”

“And I think you’re absolutely wrong about that because if we use mine we’re just going to ruin the sheets and we’ll have to wash _two_ sets, while if we keep on using yours _then_ we can sleep in mine later. Told you, you are really _shit_ at tactics.”

Any other day, he’d have tried to argue that notion.

As it is, he can give it to Freddy — it’s an incredibly sound tactic.

“… Fine, you’re right. This time. Now let me just do _this_ , hm,” he says, and then pushes him down on the bed in a position that makes sure the wet spot isn’t right in the damned way, and then leans down and kisses him again and rubs his spent cock against Freddy’s and he moans into his mouth when they both jerk at that, and oh he’s going to be hard in a few minutes again and he wants to suck him off and jerk him off again and —

Well. He can do that. They _can_ do that. They have all the damned afternoon for themselves after all, _don’t they_ , and next time they have weed, he’s _absolutely_ going to smoke his share into Freddy’s mouth.

Oh, _he can’t fucking wait for it_.

Not at all.

End.


End file.
